


Resurrecting Hope

by Bunnylover94



Series: Spells [1]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 16:03:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11740422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnylover94/pseuds/Bunnylover94
Summary: Kol is dead. And Klaus is ready to destroy everyone involved. But a certain witch and warlock will provide the tools to return the Mikaelsons a happier state of mind. Or at least until they eradicate their enemies and punish the meddlesome council restricting their natures. AU.





	Resurrecting Hope

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is AU. All the Mikaelsons are alive. And the Salvatores are world class a-holes. Enjoy. Please comment and such. Jeremy is adorkable. Kol is suave. And Klaus has a thing for the sassiest witch in the natural world. Go, figure. Elijah wants an OC. And Klaus wants to exact revenge on everyone. "Let the dead awaken from the wicked intention of inhuman wrath. Bring him back with his own soul and nature. Don't let him pass the gate to Hell or Heaven once he's back. Let him take his body back." is the translation of the Latin they speak in this story.  
> *Disclaimer: I own nothing.*

The body laid across the black coffin and Klaus’ fists tightened around the metal casing. Splintering the smooth charcoal gray surface and sent thin thread-length metallic shreds fluttering to the floor. The greyed vampire had a carved stake with sinister symbols that snaked up to the circular base. The wounded vampire’s mahogany eyes peaked out with a lifeless yet fixated gaze angled at the left. He shared the same blood as Klaus. Those motionless hands had attempted to ruin their family reputation more than he did to help fight for their family. Against their multitude of enemies.

Family forever.

These words swirled in Klaus as a mounting anger stirred and twisted in his chest. His eyes flashed a brief yellow glow. He struck the metal container beside him, eliminating the object into a flattened disk.

His two hybrids stiffened beside him. One white male whose face was expressionless, but his eyes conveyed a deep fear of his sire. He refused to reveal his part in the accursed Original’s well deserved demise. The black female felt a waft of grief wash over her body. The sire’s brother Kol was unpredictable and cruel, but treated her with a rare respect and compassion most vampires never gave her. He treated her like another sister. Silent prayers floated over his dead corpse as her lips moved with the blessings in the name of a holier power.

Why did this happen to him?

She shivered and cowered, as Klaus growled and then threw an enormous wood spike into the closest column.

The wood particles spiraled into the air and pierced the both of the male hybrid’s shoulders. The female ducked her head into her chest. She pivoted her eyes away from her mood-shifting sire.

He winced and groaned. Klaus snarled at him and pressed his finger into the hybrid’s chest.

“How did they do this on your watch?”

“Sir…” The hybrid started.

The hybrid gurgled as Klaus struck his dual-bladed fangs into the poor hybrid’s neck. Klaus shredded the body’s throat, decimated the skin. He pierced the neck with his devastating fangs; a sinister crack resounded against the punctured bone. Blue veins tilted toward the ceiling, and blood saturated the graying skin. The stare died as one final gasp filtered through the parted blue lips.

Klaus’ bright yellow eyes glowed. His tusk-like fangs were tinted with blood. The dark red liquid slid down his sneering face. A satisfied gleam entered his eyes as the hybrid’s blood glided down the wound and stained the floor.

He turned to the other hybrid.

“Who was in charge?”

The remaining hybrid shuddered.

“Which. Hybrid. Is. At. Fault?”

The hybrid rose her brown eyes to her sire. Her lips trembled and her shoulders quaked under his blinding yellow gaze.

She glanced at the other hybrid whose blood spread over the floor. Those veins were ruined like the cracked scars on Mr. Kol’s coffin side.

“Speak, young one.”

“Sir…Gareth and George were in charge. But those _vampires_ came in and…” She stuttered.

“Continue.”

“…They removed their heads! With machetes.”

 Klaus growled. “How did they find them?”

She nodded at the hybrid at the ground.

“He was there, and he talked to them. They seemed to be close. Almost like friends.”

“What did they look like?”

She closed her eyes. She scrunched her face and her lips mouthed silent words.

“What did they look like, love?”

“White guys.”

Klaus scoffed and his fangs rescinded.

“That hardly narrows it down.”

“One had these big blue eyes. And was…”

“Was what?”

“Attractive…Gorgeous even…for a vampire at least. The other vamp was chatty and he loved sticking his fangs into the humans.”

“That’s most vampires, love,” Klaus commented.

“He was different...”

Klaus’ gaze sharpened. “What do you mean?”

“Sir, I understand vampires need blood. They even enjoy the hunt. But this vampire…The blood seemed to sing to him. Like no matter how many people he drained. It was never enough to quench his thirst. Blood was his drug. He never could consume enough. He continued taking more and more. Humans were decorated across the bar.

‘He ripped through every human in the bar and then he proceeded to kill everyone in that town.

‘It seemed his hunger was merciless. But-”

“What?”

The female hybrid wrapped her arms around her body.

“…But then he sat each and every decapitated human upright like he suddenly cared. He took time to assemble them like broken toys. He touched them with great care. This bright look consumed his face momentarily as if heavenly Grace surrounded him erasing his sins.

‘It was creepy, sir.”

“Bloody Hell.” Klaus groaned.

His head fixated at the floor. The female hybrid focused her gaze on her sire. Curiosity coursed through her veins and her lips parted.

“Sir?”

“Of course, it had to be the only-”

What did the Original Hybrid mean by that? Only what?

The female hybrid stepped uneasily toward her sire.

“The only what sir?”

The First Hybrid, the Savior to the Lunar Curse, and the Notorious Supernatural Mood-Swinger whirled around and cornered her into the centuries old wall.

“What did he _look_ like?”

“G-Green eyes, brownish hair, and super white. Thick ugly eyebrows.”

“Damn it.” Klaus growled.

“They will _pay_.” He vowed as red veins etched across his face.

The female hybrid winced.

“What else?” Klaus demanded.

“Sir, I don’t think you would like the honest answer.”

“Oh, really? Why?”

“Sir, I don’t think you need to hear this.”

“Why not?”

“You don’t want to hear how your brother died.”

Klaus back stepped and turned his head away from his loyal hybrid. A swell of understanding rose into his abdomen. He eradicated any warmth or civil feelings threatening to overtake his demeanor.

“Tell me young one.”

The hybrid sighed. She knew this retelling would fuel his thirst for vengeance. Her sire was a stubborn, impulsive and violence-centered immortal being.

He and Kol shared that ruthless bloodlust.

“Sir, these vampires were ruthless. They came to kill. They both ganged up on your brother. They took turns ramming sharpened white stakes into his spine and heart multiple times.”

White oak? Impossible, but with those pesky prideful pests it was looking bleak. Klaus would wrap his fingers around their hearts and drain out everyone they ever met or cared for. Then he planned to destroy every ally they gained over their “long” lifetime.

“What else did they do?”

“Sir, I don’t think-”

“I don’t care for your meaningless words of comfort. WHAT ELSE?”

“They laughed as they rammed the stakes into his heart. And then they crushed his hands with wooden mallets taunting him as he screamed.”

“Where were you? Why didn’t you help him?”

The female hybrid’s fear vanished into exhausted frustration. She ripped her shirt collar to reveal a scarred neck that meshed into her bone marrow. The scars interlocked and wove around each circular shape to highlight the brutal crushing of metallic circles.

“I couldn’t do that. With that damn leash on me.”

“…They were prepared for you?”

“Obviously.” She deadpanned.

“Did they want anything?”

“Just Kol’s suffering. And they bragged how they would get away with it.”

“Why?”

“Because they adamantly believed you are a myth to frighten younger vampires into complying with the higher order of things.”

His hands vibrated. He began tossing items across the room. Shattering glass frames, and split the wooden door down the middle. His back turned away from the female. He tossed two small glass tables. He dented three chairs into the wall.

“I will ruin them. Everyone, they’ve ever known will suffer for their crimes. They will learn to never touch a Mikaelson. They will _loathe_ themselves. And their _pathetic_ lives when I’m through. They will resent every waking hour as I pour deadly Sun rays on their skins. They will kneel and whimper by my hands.”

The female hybrid wished she could spare an ounce of pity for the daring duo, but she knew her sire would shatter their reasons to live. He tortured his enemies for ages and cherished every bloody, painful moment they shared. Enemy to enemy.

And only after at least 3 centuries of torturing them. Separating of course, he would provide them “merciful” deaths. Just like the one they gifted to his younger brother.

 Elijah calmly strode in the room. He glanced at the brown-eyed hybrid who latched onto his face. She forcibly removed her gaze from him and focused on Kol. Elijah’s fists tightened. His jaw clenched.

 “Lyra,” Klaus said with his back turned to them.

  “Yes, sire?” She asked.

  Elijah’s eyes darkened and his shoulders stiffened.

   “Please leave and return when you can stop moaning over my brother’s corpse.”

Lyra ignored her sire’s sting that vibrated into her core.

“Sir, I _won’t_ leave you like this.”

“Go. You’re not helping anyone. Lyra, you’re burdensome.”

Lyra winced. Her sire was not holding back. She wished he wouldn’t hide behind that merciless façade of his. It wounded those closest to him and created many misunderstandings.

            “Niklaus, mind your manners.”

            Lyra shot Elijah a deep grateful gaze. Elijah merely nodded at her. She then slipped away into the hallway. She would wait for her sire’s next order.

            Once Lyra scampered off, Klaus turned to glare at his high and mighty brother.

            “Don’t scold me like a child, ‘Lijah.”

            “Continue throwing temper tantrums and I’ll resort to placing you in a corner.”

            Klaus’ nostrils flared.

            “I want those baby vampires’ punished.”

            “Niklaus.”

            “They will suffer, Elijah. This I promise you.”

            “Niklaus, you can’t.”

            “And why not, brother?” Klaus demanded.

            He wanted pain and despair to flow from those moronic Salvatores.

            “You gave the council your word, Niklaus. Remember no more widespread murder fests. It was 200 years to this day. Don’t break your promises, Niklaus. It will only end in more violence,” Elijah explained with a pointed look.

            “Who cares about my bloody word? No one seems to comprehend the levity of the situation. They will pay for their insolence. Besides that bloody council are only _three_ centuries younger than us. They need to learn their place. They shouldn’t boss around their elders.”

            “In due time.”

            Elijah slid his palms into his coat pockets.

            “Are you attempting at boring me with reason?”

            “Oh. I would never dream of doing such a thing.”

            A moment of silence stretched between them.

            “How can you just stand there and act like nothing happened?”

            Elijah clenched his jaw.

            “Do not mistake my current stance as happy compliance to our brother’s current predicament, Niklaus. As you well know, I am neither compliant nor jovial.”

            “Both things we know you aren’t.”

            “There’s no need for repetition, Niklaus. The petty behavior does not suite you.”

            Klaus clenched his jaw.

            “Don’t mistake me for a child, Elijah.”

            “Then don’t act like one. A petulant one at that,” The cool brother lightly observed as a smirk rose into his cheekbone.

            Klaus narrowed his eyes at his smug brother.

            Elijah slipped past his brother to lift up a crystal lid on the bourbon filled bottle and poured the comforting brown liquid into an edged glass. He lifted the glass and rolled the square base in his palm. Tightened his wrists around the glass as his jaw released an impatient sigh.

            “The matter will be resolved, Niklaus.”

            “When?”

            “Tonight.”

            Klaus whipped his head to his brother.

            “How-You found a witch, didn’t you.”

            Elijah smirked.

            Klaus glared.

            Elijah sipped his delicious dark drink.

            Klaus thinned his lips and sighed.

            “When is the little witch coming?”

            “I don’t know.”

            Klaus huffed.

            “I’m glad that you are on top of things, brother.”

            “Niklaus, please do calm down.”

            “Oh. I’m just bloody peachy.”

            “Mind your manners, Niklaus.”

            Klaus parted his lips. A bell resounded from the front door and rebounded past the two brothers.

            Elijah tipped down the remaining liquid. He smoothed down his wrinkled edges around his chest. Klaus rolled his eyes and stalked over to the window glaring at the timeless glass separating him from the insulting shining Sun that filtered into the room.

            “Thank you for coming.”

            “It is our pleasure, Mr. Mikaelson,” spoke a male voice.

            Klaus’ eyebrows scrunched together and pulled in deep valleys decorating his forehead. Why was there a warlock? And where was that witch Elijah promised was coming?

A rustle of clothing and a movement of muscles signaled someone bowed before his brother. Of course, the bloody witches adored his stuck-up brothers and abhorred the remaining Mikaelsons. 

            “There is no need for any pleasantries Miss-”

            “Bennet. Bonnie Bennett.”

            “Astounding, this way, please.”

            “Alright…”

            Klaus’ ears perked. He savored the sound of that witch’s voice. Strange, witches normally never aroused an ounce of joy. They usually caused a huge pit of irritation and hatred boiling under his skin.

            It was odd.

            A feminine gasp assaulted his sharp ears.

            “What happened?”

            “Oh, that. My brother had a nasty fit.”

            “Aren’t you going to clean that up?”

            Klaus literally heard the indifferent rise of his proper brother’s shoulders.

            “Perhaps, later.”

            “Why would your brother kill that guy?”

            “I’d say that he upset my brother in one way or another.”

            “That’s awful.”

            “Elijah, now you make me sound like some monster.”

            “There’s no need to jump to that accurate conclusion.”

            Klaus whirled around and smirked at Bonnie who merely watched him with critical eyes.

            “Hello, Miss Bennet. It’s an honor.”

            “And who are you?”

            Klaus smirked. “Oh, love, I’m a Mikaelson.”

            “Never heard of you.”

            “Oh. I’m sure you’ve heard of Klaus.”

            A flash of recognition and surprise flashed across her beautiful and brown face. “You’re Klaus?”

            “Of course. Why so shocked love?”

            She shook her head. “I thought you were a legend.”

            Klaus scoffed. “That appears to be the current trend amongst people these days.”

            Bonnie shook her head. “Where do want us?”

            “Here where my brother’s corpse is.”

            “But there’s-Your latest victim is blocking us. My colleague and I can’t do the spell when there are two dead men in one room.”

            The warlock chuckled at his fellow spell caster.

            Klaus snorted. “I’d hardly call him a victim. He deserved that. But if it bothers you so much. Lyra!”

            Lyra sped into the room. The warlock turned and jumped at her sudden arrival.

            “Sire?”

            “Bury him.”

            “Can I just throw him in a ditch?”

            Klaus smirked. “That’s fine.”

            Elijah sighed. “No, that’s not _fine_. We need to act more refined.”

            “The time for respect and civil treatment evaporated the minute he conspired against Kol.”

            “Then I suggest burning him, Lyra.”

            Lyra stared at Elijah and then turned to Klaus. “That’s a good compromise, sire. We should do that one.”

            Klaus sighed. “Very well.”

            Elijah smirked.

            Lyra ducked her head to hide the smile building in her cheeks.

            “Go, Lyra. Take care of him.”

            Lyra smiled and her fangs glistened in the light. She dashed over to the leaking body and ran out the back door.

            Klaus pivoted to Bonnie with a wide smirk. “Does that suffice?”

            She thinned her lips. “It’s enough.”

            “A little thank you wouldn’t kill you, love.”

            “I don’t think I should thank you. You need me. I don’t need you.”

            Klaus’ dimples appeared. “I’ll leave you and your friend to your work.”

            He cracked an amused smile and then he zipped out of the room.

            “Your brother is insane.”

            “You aren’t wrong about that. Excuse my brother. He tends to alternate his moods at an alarming rate. But he won’t dare harm a Bennet.”

            “Why not?”

            Elijah looked at her intently. “Because we respect your family above any other.”

            “What?”

            “You heard me.”

            “Well, thank you, Mr. Mikaelson.”

            Elijah briefly bowed to her. Then he walked out of the room.

            “Someone has all the respect of the oldest vampire family.”

            “Shut up, Jere.”

            “That one dude was checking you out.”

            “Elijah. No he wasn’t-”

            “I’m not talking about Mr. Perfect. The legend seems to like you, Bon.”

            “What? No-He was just being an ass.”

            Jeremy scoffed. “Yeah. Right.”

            “Jere, it’s not like that.”

            “It _so_ is.”

            “No it’s not.”

            “We can go back and forth all day. But it’s the truth.”

            “I-I just don’t understand. Why me?”

            “Why not?”

            “I just thought we would revive this guy.” Bonnie said as she gestured to Kol’s coffin.

            “We are. That’s our job, Bon.”

            “Did you bring the grimoire?”

            Jeremy cracked a toothy smile. “Always.”

            Bonnie rolled her eyes. “Let’s get on with it.”

            Now Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Straight to business then.”

            Bonnie ignored him and strode over to cracked table. She glanced at the cracks and then ran her eyes across the torn room. The structure was dented and leaning toward the floor. The frames were falling at their hinges. Glass shards covered the floor. A powerful residual energy lingered in the air jolting and piercing into Bonnie’s veins. She stifled a gasp.

            That Klaus was not someone to trifle with.

            She hoped the source of his anger was stopped.

            Bonnie blinked and shook her head to clear that ludicrous thought out of her skull. Klaus was a merciless beast and she a loyal servant to nature. She could not give in to the emotional tantrums of a power-hungry and impulsive immortal who refused to bend or compromise. Even the agreement between the council and the Originals had succeeded solely on the honorable and dutiful natures Elijah and Finn Mikaelson exuded and cultivated over the many centuries.

            She turned to her grimoire and opened to the passage that suited the Mikaelson brother at that moment. Her green eyes glowed as she channeled the energies of her ancestors and opened her mouth to fulfill her commitment to the Mikaelson clan.

            “Ira crudelius est excitare mortui ex prava intentione. Animae suae reddere rationem. Porta inferni ne transeat caelum et statim terga. Dorsum ejus accipiat.”

            “Ira crudelius est excitare mortui ex prava intentione. Animae suae reddere rationem. Porta inferni ne transeat caelum et statim terga. Dorsum ejus accipiat,” Repeated Jeremy.

            “Ira crudelius est excitare mortui ex prava intentione. Animae suae reddere rationem. Porta inferni ne transeat caelum et statim terga. Dorsum ejus accipiat.” They said in unison.

            She nodded at Jeremy and he removed himself away from Bonnie and leaned into Kol and spoke the words to him,

            “Ira crudelius est excitare mortui ex prava intentione. Animae suae reddere rationem. Porta inferni ne transeat caelum et statim terga. Dorsum ejus accipiat.”

            A great shudder erupted the house. Bonnie collapsed to the ground. Jeremy rushed over to her and checked her vitals. A deep voice penetrated his ears. Causing Jeremy to sway and struggle to rise.

            “The little witch is alright. You don’t have to worry about her. Your lover is fine.”

            “Oh. She’s not my lover,” Jeremy stated as he turned to face the soul they returned from Death’s clutches.

            Chocolate met intense mahogany. Jeremy rose up and extended his hand out to Kol Mikaelson.

            “Hello, sir. I’m Jeremy Bennet.”

            Kol roamed his piercing eyes over Jeremy’s body. He rose a blood crusted eyebrow. His smirk carved into his cheekbones.

            “You don’t look like a Bennet.”

            Jeremy chuckled. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

            Kol sent a curious glance.

            Jeremy removed his extended hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m adopted.”

            Kol scoffed. “That magic you have is less than your companion.”

            “Yeah. I’m a low-tier warlock, but I get the job done.”

            “Don’t misunderstand me, darling. Your power is slight, but your passion undermines any lacking qualifications to stand beside this current powerful Bennet witch.”

            “Um. Thanks.”

            Kol chuckled. “You’re a refreshing change from the usual witches and warlocks we recruit.”

            “How so?”

            “You’re not trying to enter my bed.”

            “Oh.”

            “Yep. It’s irritating to deal with groupies.”

            “I wouldn’t know.”

            Kol walked toward Jeremy. “How much have you seen of New Orleans?”

            Jeremy smiled. “This is my first time here, actually.”

            “Well, it sounds like you deserve the VIP tour, darling.”

            “Alright. Sign me up. Who do I go to see to get it rolling?”

            “You’re looking at him.”

            “I thought you’d want to do more important things.”

            “Like what?”

            “I don’t know. It is your first day back from the dead. Don’t you want to see your family?”

            “Ugh. No. I’d rather get stabbed in the chest again. You are definitely better company than my annoying siblings.”

            “Okay. As long as it’s alright with you.”

            “Perfect.”

            Kol leaned down and pulled Jeremy’s hand to his lips. “Darling, prepare for a great night.”

            Jeremy blushed and nodded his head.

            Bonnie groaned as she finally awakened. “What happened?”

            “The spell worked.”

            “That’s good…Jere why is Kol Mikaelson holding your hand?”

            “Well, what had happened was…”


End file.
